Nothing is Enough
by meanD
Summary: Because everyone ever, have searched for the affection, approbation of someone who is harmful to ourselves...


**Nothing is Enough**

It was a gloomy winter day, with a little fog. A subtle rain was falling, that barely and it looked. That day the streets were practically empty, no one could be seen in the surroundings...  
It's not a surprise, in general, in that street, no many people go through those streets in a common day and in a day like this, even less.

It just gives a even more terrifying picture of that place...

But, here she was.

Short steps, in a rather slow pace, than how she walks usually, as if she was taking her time: walking under the rain, which slowly became more powerful but to her it didn't affect her in the least.  
Going through the rows full of tombstones: many of marble, some blank tombstones, crosses of different sizes and occasionally, angels.  
Within her walk, she was entering more in that lugubrious place, the entrance was becoming more distant, but even from where she was, the big and tall black gates could be recognizable.

But, to her that didn't matter: that depressing place where a thousand of people come to cry, where a thousand of people lay lifeless under the ground, in a mausoleum or in a crypt... No, nothing mattered to her. She was walking through that lugubrious site without a care... She simply wasn't there.

She was lost in her own world, in her thoughts, while her body walked on its own, her pair of black with little details in red of Converse making contact with the dirt path, slowly but firmly, she moved forward towards her destination, under the rain. She was everywhere else but in that burial ground.

She suddenly stops, she'd reached her destination: there she stood, in front of a grey headstone of marble, with a lot of moss covering it, showing the pass of time and the careless of the tombstone, there is a bouquet of wilted flowers that were unrecognizable.

She usually would have snarled in disdan at that, but she wasn't paying attention to anything.

After staring at the gravestone for a couple of minutes even though for her it felt like hours, she slowly stretched her right arm towards the headstone, her hand made a fist, only her thumb was stretched. While moving forward her arm, it made her jacket and hoodie to roll up a little. Not that she noticed it. She was focused on the headstone, her gaze was always on that big piece of marble.

With a soft touch, faintly, her hand made contact with the grey marble. Her thumb laid on the silver plate, with a minimal movement of her hand, so delicate, she got rid of the dust that was on the plate. Once that the dust spread out, she undid the fist and now her fingers were on the name of the corpse that was laying in that grave. She was barely touching the engraved, as if she was afraid that something would happen.

The only thing visible of that plate was West.

"Michael Joseph West" She said, it come out of her mouth, barely as a whisper, without her consent. The words rolled out of her tongue, without emotion. Without the malice, bitterness or venom that used to be said by her, years ago. It would have left a horrible sensation in her mouth, but this time it came out so naturally. It was so foreign and weird for her...

She turned her head around to see if someone was near but the view was fuzzy due to the density of the rain, that never ceased to fall. The truth was that at the moment she was the only one in the cemetery.

She suddenly felt a rush of nervousness, afraid if someone could recognize her, she tugged at her hood a little bit more to cover her face.

She let out a sigh and returned her gaze to what she had in front of her and to what was the reason of her being there, in the first place.

It was so ironic, so surreal. She was in front of the grave of the person that she least wanted to ever see, of the person who was supposed to be there for her, she was in front of the grave of the person who made her felt a thousand of feelings, the person she grew to hate... She hated him, but still, here she was.

" _A beloved friend, husband and father._ "

She let a dry chuckle escaped from her, that has to be a really bad joke. Beloved father. He was far away for it, far, really far away from being even a father. He was supposed to be a guardian, he was supposed to be a lovely parent, he was supposed to love her... But the truth was completely the opposite.

She felt bitterness ran through her body as the memories of the person who she had as her dad, that monster that she had to deal with, how the alcohol had trapped him and transformed him into a monster, the monster that had scarred her, both physically and mentally.

"I'm sorry" came out of her lips, suddenly. Her voice so low, barely a whisper.

A heavy silence hung on the air after that words have left her mouth, without warning. While in her head, her mind was a turmoil of thousand memories, a storm of emotions, many of her old wounds reopened again by remembering those days... Her mind was screaming. Screaming, screaming in a howl of pain. Wanting to say a lot more... So many words were trapped inside of her head, so many things being unsaid, her mind needed to let free all of those but her body didn't seem to recognize the command, it was like she wasn't on her body... All the things, all the words, all the pain, all the emotions... Everything that was being bottled up for so many years, buried in the deepest part of her mind, all the wounds on her heart, everything suddenly wanted to come out at the same time, crashing down her mind, herself.

But nothing came out. Nothing, of all of those things, nothing.

Just those words: "I'm sorry".

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« _I'm sorry I can not be who you want me to be. It would not suffice to offer my whole soul to stop knowing what it feels that nothing that I'll do is enough._ »

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Black stains were falling down through her cheeks, down her face. She was crying... But she couldn't feel anything, she couldn't feel her face becoming wet, her make up streaming down her face, her vision being blurry by the tears, or her eyes glassy. No, she was so caught up on all the pain, caught up on everything that she had bottled up, everything that she had burned down in those years and now, she exploited. She was crying, openly in front of a grave.

But even in that state, her mind keeps screaming, telling herself to stop. Why are you crying? Why? WHY ARE YOU CRYING FOR THE PERSON WHO MADE YOU SUFFER THE MOST? As if this was the worst thing that she had ever done. But deep down, in her wounded, scarred, broken heart she knew that no matter what she always proclaimed to say, no matter how hard she tries to deny, how hard she tries to show the strongest hate that one could muster for someone, it was all a cover, a mask to her true feelings. All that she come up to believe was fake. She was mourning the lost of him, mourning the lost of a father, the father that she had when she was 6, she was mourning that dad that she had, that time when she was her daddy's princess.

Because, even if she tries to deny it. She has always sought for her daddy, sought for him to be proud of her... To be daddy's princess once again.

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 _«_ _All I want is you to feel proud_.»

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She still remembers all the tries that she did, all those attempts to get his attention, to let him know what she was feeling, what she wanted, to make it to him... Just show him that his little princess was still there... After all, she was still there, just waiting for him.

All those times that with her mother, both womans tried to get him to attend one of her plays (where she acted the main role or directed and produced) in the school - that he hated to pay for - to him to turn it down every single time.

As she remembers that the first time, when she did her audition for getting in, she had chosen to sing than acting, a song that she remembered that she enjoyed with him. It was special, it was their song...

But he wasn't there to hear her, to hear how her heart ached for him, for that father that she once had. How raw her voice was, filled with her emotions, as memories of both of them was in her mind while singing that song.

He never took one of the opportunities to see what his daughter was trying to show him.

Till, in one last attempt, she got what she ached for... Her father showed at her play, 'Well Wishes', which at the time seemed that won't happen as the school didn't want to produce it as they thought that it was too weird and disturbed..

And to think that she should be grateful with the half-latin girl that she used to hate and bother to no end... Tori...

Only thinking about that name made her to tremble and feel like falling down and the ache in her heart to hike up. Oh, how did things get so messed up?

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« _I know that I did not succeed it because I live with the disappointment of not be what you wanted._ _»_

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She felt ridiculous, crying in front of a tombstone. It was so surreal, so weird, but... Nothing was making sense anymore, no. Since that day, her life has turned upside, making her a mess. She still couldn't believe that she has left, that she would abandon her, but she did, she ran away, ran away and only left a letter... Since then... She doesn't even know who she is, what to do... She was so lost...

In another time, coming here and pour out her heart like this, would have seemed the most ridiculous thing that never would happen, however, that was happening.

She didn't understand why, why would she came to this place, why visit him, if even she didn't went to his funeral. Why coming now, out of the blue?

It was just another question of hers without answer. One of the heap that she had...

Maybe she came to find some answers, some solace in the middle of this tough time...

Maybe...

Her left hand closes over her right wrist, her thumb slowly rubbing over where was a barely thick, faded out scar, unconsciously.

Her gaze never looked away from the name engraved in the silver plate, it was like she was in a trance and couldn't wake up, though she wasn't there, her gaze showed that she was so far away from that place, still with tears falling down from her face.

That face that once was so beautiful, so fierce and showed so much live, now she was pale, it seemed like she was sick, her beautiful green-blue eyes now were dull orbs, they had lost their sparkle, that bright that was so characteristic of her. She just seemed like a shell of what she once was, she just seemed like a dead person alive.

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 _«_ _I'm sorry I can not be who you want me to be. It would not suffice to offer my whole soul to stop knowing what it feels that nothing that I'll do is enough._ _»_

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She stood up, - she didn't even realized that at some point she had fallen to the ground - and turned around, to leave, but before she turned her head to give a brief gaze to the tombstone for a last time, and she walked away, with her head crestfallen and her pace slow and short, feeling more worn out than when she come to this place.

Still the rain was falling, pouring on her. But that didn't matter in the least to her...

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« _Nothing is enough._  
 _Nothing is enough._  
 _Nothing is enough._ _»_

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 _ **Nothing is enough.**_

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 _ **AN: Hi guys. Today I've brought this one-shot (my first). I had this on my pc for a couple of weeks and I think that this date is the appropriate to upload it. Today is Father's Day, in Argentina.**_

 _ **There is a song called 'El Síndrome de Estocolmo' or in English 'Stockholm Syndrome', by the argentinian band Melian.**_

 _ **I think that this song fits perfectly with what I wanted to transmit. I want to thanks to Invader Johnny for checking the translation of the song.**_

 _ **Well, I hope that you liked this. Let me know what do you think by leaving a review.**_


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